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R Saba Aug 2017
sand falls around my ears, sprinkled over my shoulders
an impression left as i stand
walking away from the water
walking away from the rest of the day

there are so many things to walk away from, and some days they surround me
but today they are scattered across the lake, stranded in the small waves
and i can turn my back on the shore

it's almost like they've disappeared, at least for tonight
R Saba Jan 2015
i didn't wear my hat, i know
i should have, but i felt rebellious
in some small way, i tried to cheat the day
and paid in tingling pain, sharp aching corners
and a strange sense of pride in my bones warmed me
until just the tips of my ears were left white, dead
yes, dead
but i felt alive

to be in danger and know it, to press on against the cold
to push forward into the wind, though before you is only white
to turn blindly into the storm, to accept the blizzard's strength
to guess what lies ahead in fear and still take the risk
this, to me
is courage

maybe i'm just talking about frostbite like some romantic wound
or maybe we're in danger, you and i
pressing on into the storm despite numbing fingers
smiles frozen, eyes watery
maybe we'll get frostbite in our hearts
but i think it's worth the risk
R Saba Nov 2014
i step out
and the rain greets me like a blessing
bestowed by some great silence
i speak to each sunday
and i take this as an answer
because why the hell not

i am suddenly sure i have left something behind
but no, my bag is there
notebooks tucked under my arm
ipod clutched in one hand
phone safe inside my jacket
consorting with my keys
(proof I've got somewhere to go)
travel mug empty, wallet full
of receipts and loyalty cards

finally, pricked by the bent arm of a button
i give up, knowing it's all in my head
and i have everything i need to survive today

still, i feel like something's missing

my right hand clings to my scarf
fingers tight, knuckles white
as if to say
"give me something to hold onto"
and the rain that stings my face reminds me

i have everything i need to survive today
except you
R Saba Nov 2014
she is no longer human
writhing, shouting, feeling

i look at her and i see paint
windswept hair sticking to muddied lips
flushed cheeks over pale skin
gilded lids

she is canvas
heavy and sagging
this way and that

i listen to her and i hear nothing
swirling silence
surrounding stereo sound
breathing into doubting ears

she is no longer awake
swimming, sighing
through cold water
rough, splintered waves of memory
slap her briefly
before the current pulls her under again
and the rocks onshore call out
to her floating body
as she lies beneath a blue sky
and lets the water move her downstream
life waves weakly from the bridge

the mirror tells me i am human
loud and awake
but she recognizes the lies
she has learned
to ignore them
R Saba Nov 2014
shy stutter of a thought
scurrying across rough rock and diving
headfirst into cold white water
so as not to be heard, unlike
the wilted sigh from pinched lips
that draws eye contact then breaks it
like waves upon those stones

syllables soft and jumping
through valleys, over jagged mountains
just to reach ears clouded
with assumptions and a failing effort
to tune it all out
skinny fingers gripping a skull
through wild, upset hair
hands coming to rest uneasily
within each other, still shaking from the strain

or maybe it's the cold that cuts edges
into my shoulders, ties the laces tighter across my back
pinching me into place as i twist inside
looking away a thousand times, and trying
but i cannot unwind, i cannot open myself
to you
R Saba Oct 2014
i wrote this for you
because i knew you'd never read it

fear rules my words, rules every breath
as i walk, head down, avoiding the rain
that seeps into my hair as if to tell me
i can't escape
i will always have these cracks, these splits
that let the rain and sunshine in
and lately, they've been letting in
too much water

maybe i'm drowning
in the river we dipped our feet in
in the rain that divided our differences
and washed them down the street
the first day i held your hand

but differences are tougher than us, i guess
because they've still found the strength to shade the sky
with charcoal grey and light blue worry
that keeps me up at night
even now that they've finally done their damage

i wrote this for you
just as i always did, honest and rough
because i knew i couldn't say the words out loud

i wish i had, though
because there's not much poetry can do
to fix this now
R Saba Oct 2014
cheap wine tides me over
as i go against the grain, walk along the side
of the train tracks
and wish i was brave enough
                                          to stride down the middle
wish i was brave enough to admit out loud
that i’d love to just stand there
embrace the black coal smoke with open arms
breathe it in
and never exhale again

and i don’t mean that in a suicidal way
                                                         (i swear)
i just mean the thought crosses my mind
too often not to mean something

there’s probably a word for this feeling
but i’ve got nobody to tell it to
a poem, finally
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